


The Baker's Apprentice and the Uncrowned King

by Elsin



Series: Agnarr/Iduna [1]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Baking, Canon Compliant, Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22951705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsin/pseuds/Elsin
Summary: “What’s wrong, Your Majesty?” she asks, and he blinks.“I wish you’d just call me Agnarr,” he says forlornly, not answering her question.“It wouldn’t be proper,” she says.  “I’m just the baker’s apprentice, after all.”Or: Iduna and Agnarr, and growing up in Arendelle's castle.
Relationships: Agnarr/Iduna (Disney)
Series: Agnarr/Iduna [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679932
Kudos: 22
Collections: Purimgifts 2020





	The Baker's Apprentice and the Uncrowned King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DWEmma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DWEmma/gifts).



* * *

Iduna rises obscenely early, these days. That’s the price you pay for being a baker’s apprentice, she supposes. Not that she isn’t grateful to Haldor for giving her a place here, but—still. The sun won’t rise for hours yet, and already she’s padding quietly through the lower corridors, heading to get the bakery’s fires going.

When she rounds a corner, she almost trips over the king. He’s sitting with his back to the wall, legs drawn up in front of him; he’s staring into nothing.

Iduna needs to keep going. The bread isn’t going to bake itself. But this is her friend, and her king— _her_ king now, for she is, she _must be_ Arendellian—and she can’t just leave him like this. So she hangs her lantern on the wall and sits next to him.

“What’s wrong, Your Majesty?” she asks, and he blinks.

“I wish you’d just call me Agnarr,” he says forlornly, not answering her question.

“It wouldn’t be proper,” she says. “I’m just the baker’s apprentice, after all.”

“It’s nothing,” he says. “I couldn’t sleep. That’s all.”

“Oh.” She almost wants to press him, but dreads the prospect just as much; he’s never come out and said that he hates her people for taking his father from him, but he might think it, and she doesn’t know if she could keep strong in the face of that from him.

“The physicians and alchemists aren’t any help.” Agnarr shakes his head, oblivious to Iduna’s turmoil. “They give me things to help me sleep, but they never do work quite as they should, I don’t think.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep at all tonight?” asks Iduna, suddenly struck by inspiration.

“Probably not.”

“Then do you want to see how your bread gets made? I do need to be getting on with it.”

“Why not,” he says, though he doesn’t seem very enthused.

Iduna grins. “It’s not boring,” she says, “I promise.”

* * *

* * *

Agnarr trails her as she goes about her morning tasks, sometimes asking quiet, nearly hesitant questions. He proves to be an excellent lantern-holder, and having him along speeds her up more than she would have expected, not having to carry the thing everywhere herself.

* * *

* * *

She isn’t allowed to work on the delicate pastries or fancy breads, not yet. After all, she started baking less than a year ago, and she still has much to learn from Haldor.

But while Haldor works on those, Iduna shows Agnarr how she makes the simpler, plainer loaves that everyone in the castle eats at least some of the time.

“Can I try?” he asks, wide-eyed.

Iduna looks to Haldor, who’s been keeping half an ear and half an eye on his king this whole time. He nods.

“Put on an apron first,” she says, handing him one. He obliges. “See, it goes like this…”

* * *

* * *

Agnarr, his hands doughy and his apron much the same, sits in an out-of-the-way alcove shortly before dawn.

“I never knew baking was this much work,” he says wonderingly, and Iduna laughs.

“I didn’t either,” she says, “until Haldor took me on. You get used to it.”

“Mm.”

She tilts her head at that—usually Agnarr is much more verbose—but his head is resting against the wall and his eyelids are fluttering.

“Good night,” she says quietly, “Your Majesty.”

Even in his half-asleep state, he manages a small frown.

Then she smiles, and turns back to the bread, while the King of Arendelle sleeps in a little bakery alcove. She can only hope that his dreams this time will not cause him such pain.

* * *


End file.
